


Student-Teacher Confidentiality

by mitunamuffins



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitunamuffins/pseuds/mitunamuffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get steamy in the classroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Student-Teacher Confidentiality

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. I wrote smut.  
> *wheezes*

You position the straw with your fingers delicately between your lips. Using the already soaked paper that you’ve hid in your mouth, you use your tongue to place it near the opening of the straw. You then place your forefinger and thumb toward the the tip of the straw. Then you wait, searching for a target. What will it be today John? You think to yourself. Will it be the whiteboard where the teacher is teaching, the ceiling, or the ever elusive teacher’s desk? You decide instead on the wall nearest the front of the classroom and position your surefire weapon, ready to fire your, somewhat soggy, projectile towards its designated spot. Ready. Aim. Fire! And, like that, the sheer power of your amazing breath sends the sodden wad flying. You imagine it makes the noise akin to a slide whistle while in the air.  
  
It however does not land on the wall, just inches away from the teacher’s desk. In fact, it doesn’t make it very far at all. You don’t even hear the common Splat! that soon accompanies such actions that you remember before.Just as you turn to see what it actually landed on, you hear an ear curdling screech, soon followed by a scarcely censored barrage of profanity uttered by the crabby, dark haired,youth sitting just a few seats ahead of you.  
  
"Fuck!" he shouts. "What the hell landed in my fucking' hair!"  
His shouts are met with a few snickers from around the classroom as the angry boy claws at his hair to get it out.  
  
"Damn KK, it's really stuck in there," a student with a lisp comments.  
  
You wonder as to how he even managed to feel your spitball in that tangled, mess of hair.  
  
"Mr. Strider,"he says with a growl. "Hey! Teacher!" he says with much more intensity.  
  
Your teacher, Mr. Strider finally turns around from the whiteboard , marker in hand, and in seconds the entire classroom is silenced. Well, except for the practically wailing teen in front who finally, after some literal hair pulling, managed to pull out the pretty sizable wad.  
  
Mr.Strider is a pretty lean but quite fit guy. And the white button up shirt he's wearing today seems to barely contain his muscles. He sports short, beach blonde hair that surprisingly isn't gelled down like most teachers. He's pretty pale for someone his age and has an a bit of freckles dotting his face. He has nice chiseled features and could easily get mistaken for a model.Not that you've noticed or anything. Some kids say his eyes are the color and have the intensity of fire. You're not really sure about that, but you've never seen him without his shades on, so you can't be the judge of that. If you were to sum up Mr.Strider, personality-wise, you would describe him as the epitome of cool. For a teacher.  
  
"Karkat. Chill," he says in an easy going, though slightly annoyed, tone to the shouting teen.  
  
Karkat manages to cease his rampant shouting before pointing an accusing finger in your direction.  
  
"That slice of shitcake had the audacity to throw a spitball at me!" he yells.  
  
"Who, me?" you say in a tone clearly feigning innocence.  
  
"Oh quit with the fucking act already Egbert," Karkat groans. "We all know it was you!"  
  
"Well," Mr.Strider begins to say as he lifts an eyebrow,"Was it you John?"  
  
While it was never your intention to hit anyone, especially that guy, with your spitball, you think it's time to fess up.  
  
"Yeah it was me," you finally say.  
  
"See! I fucking told you!" Karkat shouts.  
  
Mr. Strider gives Karkat only a stern glance.  
  
And you'll be receiving your punishment in 3...2...  
  
"I guess that means detention for you Egbert," Mr.Strider finally says as he turns to write detention next to your name on the board.  
  
And there it is.  
  
No sooner than is he done writing that down, it's time to change classes.  
  
You manage to get through your next classes fairly easily, and when the school day is over you head down to Mr. Strider's room where he is sitting at his desk.  
You walk in to find that you're the only person there, besides the teacher of course, and find the seat that you usually sit in.  
  
You look towards his desk and see him sporting red headphones, and you think you can hear muffled beats emanating through them.  
  
You then look towards your book bag and try to remember if you had homework. Though even if you did, you'd have already finished it by now.  
  
You finally rest your head on the desk and sigh. While detention isn't the best place to be for someone your age, you believe it is a simple sacrifice for the class clown to endure. But it's not so bad, you guess. It is sorta quiet, so you kinda have time to just think alone. Well, maybe not all that alone. It's also convenient in that the piano lessons that were planned for you today won't happen. So you guess that's another win.  
  
Immersed in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the man standing in front of you.  
  
"Hey kid," Mr. Strider says, then quickly moves beside you to whisper, "how's it going?"  
  
You jump a bit. Startled by his sudden movements. God damn he's fast.  
  
" G-good," you stammer a bit.  
  
"Why so tense? I'm not gonna hurt ya," he says with a hint of a southern lilt and moves toward the front of you again.  
  
You try to think of something clever to say back, before he quickly leans in close to you, your lips barely brushing.  
  
You can see the outlines of his eyes through his aviators. You still can't really tell the color of his eyes, even this close up.  
  
"Uh s-sir you're uh um,"you fumble with your words, trying to at least get something out.  
  
He gives a chuckle then moves back out and begins to pace around your desk for some time before speaking again.  
"You know John," he starts "with the amount of times you've been put in detention in my class, I'm starting to think you actually like spending time here with me."  
  
You don't say anything and think it's better to keep quiet at this point, so you quickly shake your head.  
  
"Oh come on kid, don't think I haven't caught you glancing at my ass more than once," he says.  
  
"I d-do no-" you try to say before he interrupts.  
  
"Though I guess I don't blame you. I mean I would stare all day too. I bet you even have fantasies about it," he continues.  
  
You scoff at that statement, clearly thinking he's joking. Or at least hoping.  
  
While it is true you've had more than a couple raunchy fantasies about your teacher wearing only a pair of boxers, most times less, wrapping his toned arms around you, holding you tight in a tender, loving embrace, before rolling under sheets on some super fluffy mattress that you've just imagined. Leaning in to kiss you tenderly he- Oh Fuck!  
  
You don't even have to look down to know you've got a pretty hard object stuffed in these pants. No. No. Please. Oh God. Please not in front of this guy. You start to think."But it's too late. You have popped one heck of a boner, right in front of your teacher of all people.  
  
You try to quickly hide it from him, but you're not quick enough before he sees it.  
  
"Heh, need some help with that little man?" He asks.  
  
You don't have time to respond before you're turned in your seat, facing sideways. You just watch as he kneels down and starts to unbuckle your belt and undo your pants, sliding them down when he's done.  
  
"Oh my god." He says staring at your boxers.  
  
"What?" You ask  
  
"Really, John? Ghostbusters?" He chuckles.  
  
"Hey!" You respond, a bit hurt by his teasing on your choice of underwear.  
  
He finally pulls down your boxers to you reveal your hard cock. You take in a sharp breath from chill of the air hitting it.  
  
"Now don't worry John," he says reaching for your exposed manhood,"I'll take good care of this."  
  
He wraps his hands around the base of your cock and starts stroking it slowly. You try to suppress a moan as he starts going faster. His cool hands working away. You never knew having someone else do it would feel like this.  
  
He takes his hands off and starts to use his tongue to pleasure you now. You watch as his tongue swirls around your shaft, from base to tip, leaving no area untouched, and licks the split where your precum had started to form. You pant heavily, refusing to believe this is all happening but the way his little nips and kisses here and there, and you biting your lip hard as he does it, feel all but too real.  
  
When gets back to the top again, he gives you only but a glance before putting the rest of his mouth around it, sucking ever so slowly, sensually before increasing his pace, his mouth pulsing and his tongue swirling. You groan none too quietly at this, and can tell that he's had practice.  
  
You watch his head bob up and down, and grab hold of his hair while your other is gripped tightly to the seat.  
  
He takes his mouth off, then starts again but this time he takes your entire cock down, not even choking for a moment, and pulls up again. He repeats these movements until you can't hold it in anymore.  
  
You release just as he goes down again. You both pant heavily in time with each other. A bead of sweat falls down your flushed face.  
  
Looking down, you see that while he's managed to swallow most of your cum, there's still a bit leftover on his mouth. Embarrassed, you try to look for something to clean his face with, but he shows that his tongue can do a better job than any tissue.  
  
You avert your eyes toward the clock, and realize that your detention is over. You really should go.  
  
"I t-think I should go," you mumble, fumbling desperately to get your pants from around your ankles fitted around your waist. "I think my dad is waiting outside." You jump from your seat once you've got the belt somewhat done, then quickly abscond from the classroom, thankfully remembering to get your book bag, and not even muttering a goodbye .  
  
You open the door and slam it it shut, taking your place in the back seat, resting your head on your knees, refusing to look up. When he asks about your day you simply whisper a "Fine." And then you sit still and wait for him to drive away from the school.


End file.
